


Germany Takes Everything From You

by ThreeBs



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Break Up, Dialogue Heavy, Disappointment, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/M, Germany, Hate to Love, Heartache, Heartbreak, Heiwajima Shizuo Deserves What He Gets, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love/Hate, M/M, Moving On, Moving Out, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character, Regret, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Vulnerability, most probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeBs/pseuds/ThreeBs
Summary: Izaya should have known better - love is for children who are luxurious enough to have nothing to lose.





	Germany Takes Everything From You

Izaya's tongue callouses with a wash of bitter wine.

His throat constricts and his eyes water, but it's the alcohol--hot on his taste buds. It can't be the disappointment and certainly not the heartbreak. He's more resilient than the crushing weight of sorrow and despair. He won't allow himself to be dragged under the ground in a heap of unbecoming howls and undignified cries.

The view of Shinjuku is beautiful and ugly in all its familiarity – the memories that taint the city rushing back. The full wall-window that fogged with his heated breath but cold to the touch of his palm and his fevered forehead. He knows every tenant of every apartment for miles – knows every decoration that lies behind the closed curtains. Looking down, a head of blond hair crosses the street, disappearing as it enters the apartment building.

Izaya turns, walking towards the living room. He sits on the sectional, crossing one leg over the other. He taps a foot, the lack of rhythm muffled by the rug. He drums his fingers on his thigh, swirling the wine with his other hand. The lock clicks and the door creaks open, shutting just as quickly. His stomach rumbles with rage as the keys jiggle and clack before being dropped with a noisy thud on the table – surely scratching the wood.

When did every little thing turn into annoyance?

Shizuo smells of cigarette and cologne – the expensive kind with a name in another language Shizuo doesn’t understand. The bottle is black and clear with golden accessories that shine under the bathroom lights - fancier than anything Shizuo would ever buy for himself. Izaya didn’t get it for him either, preferring to nuzzle behind Shizuo’s ear to the scent of his own skin and sandalwood soap whereas the cologne is pungent like vomit and alcoholic enough that it might as well be pure vodka.

Even if Shizuo smelled good to Izaya, it wouldn’t be for him.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be home early.”

“You’d know if you were home these days at all.”

“What’ya mean?” He says with a crooked smile and shifty eyes.

“I’ve been home,” he shrugs, “all week.”

“Oh. I…um…”

Izaya raises an eyebrow. “Yes, well, never mind that.” He stands, drinking the last of the wine. “it’s not important.”

“It’s… not?”

“There’ other pressing matters I need to speak to you about.”

“Oh?” Shizuo shoulders relax.

Izaya hums, watching Shizuo take off his tie and vest – watching him stretch his legs and lean his back on the single sofa as he ruffles his hair. How come he hasn’t stopped being so handsome?

“Is it true our love has run cold?” He asks, voice controlled and impassive.

Shizuo’s muscles pull taunt, eyes growing wide. “What?” he splutters, “O-of course not! Why would you s-say that?”

“As I’ve heard it, you said it first.”

“I haven-”

“Are we over too? Because I haven’t been told of us breaking up from you but apparently everyone else has despite us still living under the same roof and sleeping behind the same door.”

“Obviously we’re still together! Happier and more in love than ever!”

“I don’t think you believe that lie as much as you want me to. And even if it was true for you, you can’t speak for me.”

“Aren’t you happy?”

“Are  _you_? Or perhaps you are, with that Russian of yours, right?”

The floor has been pulled from under Shizuo’s feet – his heart skipping a beat. “I-I… H-how…”

“Can you even say you love me to my face?”

“I do!”

“You aren’t actually saying it, though,” Izaya says with a pitying tone.

“I swear it’s n-”

“Do you love her? Is that it? Is the word just for her now?”

He huffs, "why would you doubt me?"

Izaya laughs. “Is the proof of your love for me in the nights you stay out late without telling me anything? Is it in the mornings you leave, walking past me without even sparing me a glance? Is in the way you dress up for someone else? Or the kisses you haven’t meant or given me in months? I find it more curious that you aren’t actually trying to deny her at all.”

He sighs. “All that stuff is just… our relationship is settling. That’s all.”

“Settling? Is that what you think happens when a relationship  _settles_?” and Shizuo has never been on the other side of Izaya’s sneer, his eyes redder than they’ve ever been. “You think settling is lying and being unfaithful, staying with someone for the sake of making each other miserable until seconds turn into years and all you have left is resentment and hate? Does it make you happy, proud, powerful? To string me along, neither holding me nor letting me go just in case it doesn’t pan out with the affairs you’ve got behind my back?”

“Izaya…”

“Do you love me?”

“I-I do! Of course I fucking do!”

“I don’t.”

“W-what?” He chokes out.

“I’m tired, Shizuo. I’m tired of pretending that I’m fine and that it doesn’t hurt that you wear the best clothes and style your hair for someone else like I’m not right next to you! Watching it all as if I wasn’t in my own body – too shocked to even scream at you before you leave to tangle up with some whore.”

“She’s not-”

Izaya snorts. “Really? Defending her honor are we now? Am I mistaken? Did she not know you had someone else? Or was she here first and  _I’m_  the whore you just so happen to live with?

“L-listen, we can work it out!” he smiles lopsidedly, reaching out desperately, hand-movements erratic. “we can go to therapy and talk, sort through our problems and come out stronger! We can make it better! Like nothing ever happened - like we used to be. It’s not over for us! I-it doesn’t have to be over, it can’t be!”

“Are you only saying that because your Russian left Japan? Because I know about that too.”

“I-” He shakes his head frantically. “No, that’s not it!”

“Look. I don’t care if it was a mistake, Shizuo. I don’t care if you want to make it work and if you feel regret and how much it fucking crushes you like the narcissistic asshole you are! I don’t  _want_  you.”

“This can’t be it,” he whispers.

“I don't care what you think this can and can't be. I’m leaving.”

“W-what?” Shizuo gulps, the sound like a muted and aborted heartbeat between them – wet and vulgar.

“Everything’s yours. I want nothing to do with things you’ve ruined – especially the bed that stinks of her in spite of how many times I washed the damn bed-set.”

“I’m sorry. I am- I- I really care about you. You’re everything to me! You can’t leave me like this! Y-you just... can't...”

“It’s a gift, Shizu-chan! You actually get to see one of us leave since you didn’t have the pleasure to see her go.” Izaya pulls the handle of the luggage next to him – Shizuo hadn’t even noticed it was there. He looks up at Shizuo, sighing.  “Are you going to look for me the way you so vehemently searched for her when you found out she left without telling you anything? Or maybe not, I guess,” he shrugs, resigned. ”I don’t think I’m deserving of so much hard work and dedication from you, right?”

“Are you going to give up on us? Just like that?”

Izaya chuckles. “Sure. Yeah. I’m giving up on us.”

“Where are you going? Where will you stay?”

“Russia maybe,” he says, grinning. “What do you think about Germany?”

Shizuo’s eyes widen. “Why- why would you go there?”

“It’s a funny story, really. I got a job offer a month and a half back. I was going to tell you, but you seemed to have other, more important, lovers to attend to.  It’s only pure coincidence that she left you for Germany too. I do wonder why she left. Maybe, she got tired of being the other woman? More important than me, clearly, but still not important enough to leave me for her, right?”

“I lo- I love you! She’s… she’s n-nothing. I-I swear.”

“You can’t even say it without stumbling over the words like the thought of loving me over her is unfathomable! You can’t even lie to me through your teeth to safe your miserable life!”

“I- I love you.”

“I’m leaving,” Izaya says, dragging the luggage behind him.

Shizuo takes hold of Izaya’s arm, stopping him with a strong grip that’s been missing between them for more than a few months acceptable. “Don’t.”

Izaya yanks his arms away. “Listen here,  _Shizu-chan_ ,” the endearing term turning into an insult – a curse. “I hope you dream of me and my touch and how good it felt to be loved the way I loved you! I hope you remember me from the most mundane of things – a ringtone in the middle of the street, the smell of green tea when you visit your mother, the taste of salt when you pay for sex, and the sight of red. I hope you think of me even when you’re in a crowded room but can’t help but feel lonely, your regret and anguish following you around and shredding at your sanity, but you won’t be able to let go – won’t even be able to shed a single tear to stop it all from festering inside you. And one day, I’ll forgive you… and the sound of your name won’t grate on my nerves, but you won’t be able to forgive yourself.”

“I-Izaya…” Shizuo, in shock, stands rooted in place.

Izaya walks past him like a tornado that has no business being as elegant as it is as it rips everything in its wake. His stride like the crashing of waves, breaking concrete pillars that took years to build in the blink of an eye. The door falls shut like rumbling thunder with his absence. The silence that follows a black hole sucking all the oxygen in the apartment.

Shizuo's eyes water, but the tears don’t fall. The lump in his throat making it hard to push, “fuck Germany,” out of his mouth with a sad excuse for a laugh that's more an abandoned sob. There’s pressure in his chest that wants to be unconfined but can't be set free without a path of release.

He doesn’t cry - can't - and for years to come, he’ll never be able to.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought in the comment!
> 
> <3  
> -3B
> 
> Interested in my writing? Check out my other Shizuo/Izaya work:
> 
> ["The Lowest Point of the Sun."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703554) (One-Shot)  
> ["The Anatomy of a Camellia."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816264/chapters/33590970) (On-Going)


End file.
